They Fumble
by heythereindiekid
Summary: Lips of lazy, sunny-day clouds; girl of fire. Spilt blood and savage beauty and he has never met someone so mismatched in all his life – torn between her Potter heritage and her Slytherin label. It's nothing but complex.


**Name:** They Fumble

**Author:** heythereindiekid

**Word count:** approx. 8, 500

**Summary:** Lips of lazy, sunny-day clouds; girl of fire. Spilt blood and savage beauty and he has never met someone so mismatched in all his life – torn between her Potter heritage and her Slytherin label. It's nothing but complex.

**A/N: **Well this took ages. I'm so sorry to everyone who read my Blair & Dan story, gave me marvellous reviews and favourited me, only to see that I wouldn't update in forever. I'm trying. I promise.

* * *

_He fumbles at your Soul__  
__As Players at the Keys_

_-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

He's spoilt and bratty and exactly what you'd expect. He's a spitting image of his father; a pattern of his forefathers lives, ready to become what they became and do what they did. He is a mould of platinum blond hair, pale skin and storm cloud eyes. He has a handful of close acquaintances (or cronies, as Louis Weasley called them once, midway through a hot-headed speech like the arrogant prick he is) that follow him around like lap dogs. He's an ice-cold Slytherin, and most importantly, he is a Malfoy.

She is no mould or pattern or expectancy. She is a Potter, and even though she's just as brave and warm and great in spirits as the rest of her family, she's nothing like them. She has the glittering emerald eyes of her father, and long, ginger hair of her mother, but that's about it. Her lips are thick and peach-coloured, her skin neither pale nor tanned, her eyelashes stunningly long, her legs long and toned, her personality wild and untameable. She is neither here nor there in anyway in life and she is totally, utterly, completely her own person.

It's nothing but complex.

* * *

"I'll be in Slytherin," Scorpius tells the people closest to him coolly, confidently. "My whole family has for generations."

The hat falls over his blond head, and the Great Hall is silent as he waits. "_Oh no, there's no question about you. You Malfoys . . . Such a long family line, such a name, so . . . Predictable." _

Before the eleven-year-old has time to protest in outrage at the insult to his family, the hat bellows, '_Slytherin!' _He smirks at his new companions that he met on the train and sits down between Celeste Parkinson and a seventh-year, oozing with his inherited confidence.

"Welcome to the best house, kid," the older student winks charmingly.

"I'm Scorpius Malfoy," he explains, clapping half-heartedly as Eamon Nott joins the Slytherin crowd. "It was inevitable, really."

* * *

Two years later, Lily Potter taps her foot impatiently, blowing a strand of wild hair out of her eyes. Her family is eagerly waiting her sorting from their seats at the Gryffindor table: her brothers keep making faces and pointing to the Hufflepuff table, while Roxanne, Dom and Vic whisper animatedly; Louis taps his fingers on the benches and cranes his neck to spot Hugo and Lily.

"Oh, I can't wait," he whispers to her as Calvin Mackey is called up. "I wonder if I'll be a good flyer . . . Good at Quidditch, maybe. Roxanne has always been a fantastic player – but then again, Uncle George and Auntie Ange always talk about their Gryffindor Quidditch days. Roxy is _so_ lucky to have a parent on a pro Quidditch team. I'm glad she didn't take up with the Chudley Cannons or – Merlin forbid – the Tutshill Tornados. Holyhead Harpies are quite a team, and it's amazing that your Mum used to play for them, but if you ask me, Puddlemere United-"

"Actually, Hugo, I didn't ask you," Lily sighs, her eyes catching an older boy with hair the colour of the moon. "I'm just praying I make it into Gryffindor, let alone anything extracurricular."

Hugo shrugs. "No one from our family has _ever_ been put in anything but Gryffindor, why would you be the exception?"

"Oh, Hugh, don't you know I'm the exception to everything?" she grins.

"Shh! Was that a Wallace, Lil? We must be next!" Hugo was bobbing around so frantically, Lily was truly afraid he might explode.

"Calm down, Hugo, and-"

"_Weasley, Hugo_."

Hugo looked to her with wide, animated eyes before stumbling up the stairs nervously. The hat fell over her small cousin's head as Lily watched, half-sick and half-excited. Lily didn't really hear the hat announce his house, she just watched as Hugo tore the hat over his head and flew off his seat to join Rose.

Lily walks toward the hat uncertainly. Something was churning in her stomach anxiously, like something truly terrible was about to happen. It was obviously a feeling that Hugo had not experienced or, if he had, had hid it well. She spotted him out of the corner of her eye, being patted on the back by her family and grinning like a maniac. Suddenly, her lack of confidence grates on her nerves and she storms up to her waiting seat and plops down on it.

"_Oh, a Potter? Now really, this is a surprise . . ._"

"What?" Lily hisses under her breath. "What's a surprise?"

"_You know, I came across the same problem with your father-"_

"What problem? What _problem_?"

"_What house you belong in._ _Questionable, with your determination and fire . . . Surely, moulded like a Gryffindor, but there's a Slytherin in there . . . Yes, I can feel it."_

"No! You don't understand! My family- I _can't- _No, no, no!"

"_SLYTHERIN!" _the hat roars. As Lily rips the hat off her head, the Slytherin table yelps and woops. The blond boy she spotted before is watching her with his pale brow raised, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Other houses clap, but a section of the Gryffindor table remains completely stunned and silent. James is standing already, obviously prepared to embarrass her on her first day, but his mouth hangs slightly ajar. Al's forehead is crumpled in confusion, while Hugo gapes at her.

It feels like someone is poking needles into her as she skips down the steps and heads towards the Slytherin table. She sits down next to a stunning girl her age with long, golden hair and smiles politely.

"Imogen Armeddon," the girl says in smooth voice that seems to shower glitter over her words. "Are you Harry Potter's daughter?"

"I don't know," Lily breathes, leaving the other girl utterly confused.

* * *

Scorpius is fifteen now and Hogwarts is becoming exceedingly entertaining. There are, for starters, hundreds of girls, and he has always had life come easily to him. He is currently dating Celeste Parkinson – whose mother had endured a rather gritty divorce, with an expensive outcome. Most people like him, especially his professors, and he's satisfied. He would only change one thing about Hogwarts.

The bloody Weasley-Potter clan.

His father had told him time and time again that they were asses, but old Potter was the Boy Wonder or whatever and had saved the family's neck a bunch of times. His mother had told him to pick his own enemies, not his fathers, and he had. They just happened to be the same people.

They're all pristine little Gryffindors and he hates them from their red hair to their martyr hearts. He hates the Veela one, who thinks he's so hot and charming, and he _loathes_ the smart one who cares so much about her damn grades and morals. But the worst is Potter's daughter.

She might be in Slytherin, but she's so full of fire; so damn full of pride and emotion. Ever since the first time he and Rose Weasley got into a squabble and Lily came and pushed him over with a hard punch to the gut, he's hated her.

"Potter," he sneers at her in the corridors.

Lily makes a face at him and replies in a mock tone, "_Malfoy_."

"It'd do you good to be friends with your own house, you twit."

She sighs and adjusts the books placed in her arms. "It'd do you good to stop being such an insufferable git. Don't you have some first years to yell at? Some girls to drool over?"

Scorpius straightens up. "I don't _drool_, Potter."

Lily raises her eyebrows quickly and snorts. "I see you leering over Imogen all the time, and don't think she hasn't noticed, either."

"Imogen is thirteen!" Scorpius spits. "And besides, she's good friends with Celeste Parkinson, who I'm currently dating."

"Ooh, a pureblood, fifth-year Slytherin for a pureblood, fifty-year Slytherin! How boring," Lily says flatly, rolling her eyes.

"Traditional," Malfoy retorts, narrowing his own, dark eyes.

"Whatever, Malfoy, I don't have time for this. You're _traditional _and boring and I simply don't want to fight with a sad boy who really should be doing something productive with his life."

"I-"

"What? Bickering with third years is how you spend your free time now?"

"No, Potter," he replies with a cruel smile, "Only you. You and your sad family."

"Oh, go lock yourself in a cage with a starving Hippogriff," Lily snaps, pushing past Scorpius and continuing on through the corridors.

"You have a nice day!" Scorpius shouts back bitterly.

* * *

Celeste Parkinson pokes her head around the third year's dormitory door. Her long, chocolate hair tumbles over her shoulder as she gives the Imogen and Lily a sly smile. "How are we, girls?"

"Fantastic, Celeste. May I ask why, on such a wonderful day like today, we are graced with your good presence?" Imogen murmurs, looking up from the parchment she is writing on.

"We fifth years have decided it's about time we introduce our legacies to the few younger students we deem worthy. Scorpius was most hesitant, Lily, I'm afraid to say, but I did convince him eventually. Just because you're a Potter doesn't mean you're not a Slytherin. Come along," Celeste orders curtly. "And _please_, Lily, do not prove me wrong."

"Sure, sure," Lily grumbles, but Parkinson has her intrigued. She doesn't mind Celeste, even though she's too picky on blood statuses and family names. She is, in fact, very pretty, cunning and interesting to talk to. "So I suppose your darling Malfoy will be there, won't he?"

Celeste laughs. "Of course, Potter. He needs to get over his pretences and realise that you're a Slytherin and nothing like that damned Rose Weasley."

Lily bites her lip. Usually, she'd defend her cousin and, should it come to it, even duel with the older girl. But she was far too interested in what Celeste was about to unveil to her, and really, it was true. She was nothing like Rose, or James, or Hugo, or Al, or Dom, or Lucy, or Louis. Sure, most of her family were outgoing and fire-fuelled just like she was, but the way she viewed the world was different. Everything she wanted was diverse to their dreams; all her morals were just slightly unfathomable to them.

The three girls climb higher and higher up the staircases, past the third, fourth and fifth floors. It seems the rest of the castle must be either studying or at Hogsmeade, as no one else is around. Celeste's robes fly out behind her, her chestnut hair billowing down her neck as she strides with her head held high. She oozes confidence, and Lily likes to think that if she were watching as someone else behind her, she would look quite the same. So much for her stupid brothers always badmouthing Slytherin, they didn't know what it was like to be one. She actually _loved_ it.

Powerful. That's what it was like to be in Slytherin – it made you feel powerful.

Imogen points to a portrait of a rather plump lady, who was currently picking grapes off a tree behind her and placing them in her mouth, a look of great indulgence washing over her face. "I hear that's the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Really, with all their might and wonder, you'd think they'd have something a little more _grand_, don't you?"

Celeste makes a gentle cough of disgust and nods. "They are so very modest and humble, you know." Imogen laughs and Lily feels a tingling of great dislike towards the portrait, towards what lay behind it. Surely it would be warm in their common room, full of bravery and love and whatever else they claim they have. They don't get _rights_ over things like love and bravery, and they aren't the only house who could have them. Lily glares at the portrait one last time before speeding up.

"We're here, my little snakes," Celeste grins, placing her hands on her hips delicately.

"This is a wall," Imogen states, raising a perfect eyebrow.

Celeste laughs. "Oh, darling, no. This is so much _more_ than a wall."

Lily nods, "She's right, Imogen. It has exquisite tapestry, too."

The two third years laugh, but Parkinson rolls her ink-coloured eyes. "Shush, now." Imogen and Lily obey. Celeste shuts her eyes tightly and starts to pace. The two younger Slytherins eye each other, exchanging looks of doubt and curiosity.

Giving Lily an awful fright, a door starts to unfold right before her eyes, almost as if some invisible man was simply drawing the features in quickly and painting them to extravagant detail.

"I introduce to you, the Room of Requirement. Nott still believes we should call it the Come-And-Go room, but that hardly holds and majestic qualities to it." Parkinson flings open the doors and strides into the room, where a huddle of other Slytherin fifth years are waiting.

"Imogen," Malfoy greets from his position at the very centre of the commotion. His eyes land on Lily, who is looking around the room in awe. "_Potter_."

Lily opens her mouth to snap something back, but Celeste is already by Malfoy's side, squeezing his hand. "Come on, Scorpius, get over yourself. She's _thirteen_."

Something roars in Lily's stomach at the mention of her age. She suddenly feels very young, very vulnerable, and very, very inadequate. But she does well to not let it show. "Yes, Malfoy, and your horrid comments have scarred me for life. I'll just be off then – to go cry, of course, seeing as Scorpius has had such a drastic effect on my poor, frail, tender self – unless you want to tell me what in the name of Merlin is going on."

"This is where the real Slytherins hang out," a tall, thickly-built boy says. "Without the bossy seventh-years and the annoying first years."

"Exactly, Goyle," Scorpius nods. "Look around, be our guests. After much debate," he mutters, doing a cold once-over of Lily, "it's been decided that you two meet our standards. Get ready to live, ladies."

Lily's eyes roam the room slowly. The room is held high with marble pillars to match the cool, marble floor. A soft, green rug covers the majority of the room, so much of a deep moss colour that it could very well be grass found on a forest floor. Wide, same-coloured curtains are pulled shut, though cords of shiny silver snaking themselves around the drapes. Silver lanterns float slowly through the room, illuminating everything. The roof itself looks just like the night sky, much alike the Great Hall, but Lily doubts it ever changes. The bright blue sky would throw everything off balance, whereas the black of midnight and its silvery stars only enhanced the ambiguous feel of the place.

Malfoy strolls over to her side. "What do you say, Potter? They tell me you're different. I mean, I still know you're a hot-tempered little cow, but you're in this house for a reason. I have yet to figure out that what that is."

"I'm not like them," Lily tells him, her eyes cold and blank so she _will not cry_. "I have yet to figure out why as well."

"Welcome to the house, Potter," he says darkly, his grey eyes narrowed and his lips tightly pressed together.

* * *

Lily stares out her window blankly. Her body feels numb on top of a bed that she once found so comforting. Even on the holidays, she used to enjoy coming home. What changed?

_Everything_.

The hate towards Gryffindor was already there inside of her. She was born a Slytherin, and it felt all too right to say that. Her family, so unlike her in so many ways she had never seen before, assured her it made no difference to them. They just didn't know it made a difference to her. No, the oil had already been seething away inside of her. All it took was one small, lit match to set the fire ablaze.

"Watch out!" James shouts loudly, pushing Albus out of the way. Al looks slightly alarmed, but the glint in his brother's eyes tells him it was no more than a silly joke. "The Slytherin Ice Princess is walking down the staircase! Everyone, quick, bow before she turns you to stone with her horrible eyes-"

Lily shot him a look, her vivid green eyes extremely unimpressed.

"Like that!" James yelps, and then collapses on the floor in a rigid heap.

Lily claps half-heartedly and stands over him. "Oh, well done, brother. That was a good one. Really, you're hilarious," she glares. "How old are you supposed to be? Seventeen, that's how old. Now go get a job, a girlfriend, and act like it."

"Two years ago you would have laughed at that," James says indignantly.

"Two years ago I would have called you a silly git and then tackled you to the ground. Now I'm fourteen, and that view of you hasn't changed the slightest."

"Go hang with your ruddy snake chums, Lily!"

"Go get some chums, James!"

"Oi!" Harry interrupts, shaking his head. "What in bleeding hell has gotten into you? Merlin knows what happened over the term, but don't you think this is getting a little ridiculous? You're an adult now, James, why are you picking fights with your fourteen-year-old sister?"

Lily lets out a triumphant _hmph_ and crosses her arms.

"And you!" Harry says, wheeling around to face his only daughter. "What happened, Lily? Last time you came home you were fine, and now you can't stand anyone or talk to any of us! Teddy was really looking forward to seeing you, you know. Victoire's pregnant and he keeps calling _us_ to see if you want to come over."

The blood drained from Lily's face as she thought of Teddy Lupin: beautiful, kind, brave, Teddy. The Teddy who had been sorted into Gryffindor, the Teddy who she had not even written to in months.

Ginny appeared from the kitchen, her wand in hand, water running in the background. "What's going on out here? Lily? Harry?"

Harry turned to Ginny and shook his head, running a hand through his thick, dark but greying hair. "I don't even know. Let them fight, for all I care."

James disappeared out the back door, leaving Lily all alone. But it's alright, she's been feeling alone all summer.

* * *

"Malfoy," Lily breathes, flopping down next to him in the empty carriage. His grey eyes meet hers inquisitively, studying her tired face. He aged slightly over the summer: his cheekbones became more precise, and he grew again. He would surely tower over her even more, now.

"We've just had a huge holiday, Potter, why on Earth do you look so exhausted?"

"Try living with a bunch of Gryffindors," Lily replies quietly, "who are _supposed_ to be your family. Then tell me how you feel."

"Lonely?" Scorpius guesses, much to her surprise. She opens her mouth to respond, but Goyle, Nott, and Parkinson stroll through the door right at that moment.

"Where's Armeddon?" Nott asks curiously. His thick, dark hair was longer and still stuck up in a seemingly effortless array. His jaw line, however, was much more defined, and the rolled up sleeves of his white button-up told Lily that he had also become much more muscled.

Lily answers, "Talking to an old friend in Ravenclaw or something."

She zones in and out of the conversation, leaning her head against the soothing glass of the Hogwarts Express window. She didn't understand why she felt so at home here, as Eamon and Goyle (she still had no clue as to what his first name was) talked about how much of a lousy Quidditch captain Chelsea Wilton made for Hufflepuff.

Imogen stops in a couple of times, but she's a gorgeous social butterfly and simply has too many people she needs to talk to before the year overloads her again.

The train halts to a stop after what seemed like minutes, and all of her companions stand to leave. "I'm starving!" Goyle whines, tapping his foot impatiently.

"You're always hungry," Celeste replies with a roll of her eyes.

Malfoy is second last out before her, and so Lily waits for him to pass before rising to her feet. He pauses, though, and turns to face her. "Coming?" he asks, extending a hand towards her, which she accepts daintily.

Lily decides that it's best to ignore the way his hand feels like silk against hers.

* * *

Fifth year is the hardest to face. Not only does she have the looming pressure of her OWLs, but most of her friends won't be returning next year. In hindsight, fourth year was bliss. Albus left her alone, she became one of the inner circle in the Slytherin group and her schoolwork had been a breeze. Now there didn't seem to be enough time.

In the first few weeks, her chest begins to feel heavier and heavier with pressure and stress. She needs an escape, and flees to the Room of Requirement in the dead of the night with her father's invisibility cloak – which, incidentally, he never did give to her. Oh no, the cloak was passed on from James to Albus, but never to Lily. She had been furious with her father when she found out over the holidays and had stolen it recklessly. Albus would notice soon, and hopefully would believe he had misplaced it, keeping it to himself as he searched ruthlessly while guilt filled him. She never felt an ounce of regret.

_She never does, any more_.

As she strides through the corridors, Lily keeps alert. There was a big bath in their room – that was where she would start. Then maybe read some of the books on the shelves . . . It didn't matter. She would do whatever she pleased. _No one ever has to know I left my dorm. Tomorrow is a Saturday, anyway-_

Lily's thoughts come to a sudden halt as she collides with nothing and landed flat on her back. Her cloak slips right off, and Lily looks around in a daze. Malfoy appears at her side, suddenly, his wand in hand.

"Where the bloody hell did you come from?" she whispers, careful not to disturb any nosy paintings.

"You ran into me," he hisses back. Lily raises an eyebrow, still confused. He explains, "Disillusionment charm."

"Well, I _never_-"

"Merlin's pantihose, what is going on here?"

"I was sleeping! Who prances around at this time of night?"

Scorpius exhales quickly before scooping Lily into his arms and disappearing into the Room of Requirement. "I was just about to go in when you attacked me," he scolds her once they're safely inside, releasing her from his arms. "You could sleep either, I take it?"

"Insomnia," she murmurs, running a finger over a set of trinkets that dangle in the air like a child's mobile, "sneaks up on me at the worst of times."

"The worst of times, eh?" Malfoy heads towards a door that Lily knows leads to a small kitchen – one that a few, very trustworthy house elves stocked up every day. She hears the kettle boil due to a spell he hums, and minutes later, the blond boy appears with a cup of tea. "Go on then, I'll play councillor and you tell me about your petty fifteen-year-old woes. Did you have a squabble with Armeddon? Failed that Herbology test you worked _so_ hard for?"

Lily glowers at him, crossing her arms bravely in front of her chest. She takes a deep breath before coming to a decision. "Okay, alright. You see, my brother Albus thinks I am simply rotten now that I'm in Slytherin. He doesn't trust me at all – nor does my brother James, who tries, unsuccessfully, to hide his disapproval with teasing and taunting. My father is, of course, _very_ disappointed, but he has to love me, doesn't he? There's something so very wrong about the great, wonderful, Harry Potter having a daughter in Slytherin. It's incomprehensible; unfathomable-"

"Oh, boo hoo, Potter. We all have family problems."

"-_and_, on top of that, there's the fact that the very people who made me who I am today, the few people I trust, are leaving me soon." Lily closes the gap between them with a few, long strides. "Imogen is lovely, yes, but she flitters from time to time, from person to person. If that's not enough, then I have my OWLs coming up soon, and how can I ever compete with Albus? He's the smart one. If I'm a Slytherin Potter who fails her OWLs, they might as well disown me. I feel . . . Well, I feel lost, I suppose."

Scorpius looks Lily up and down critically. She's close enough that she can see the black strikes in his grey eyes, as cool and menacing as a waiting storm that knows it's about to reek havoc. An ominous smile plays on his lips. "We corrupted you, Lily Potter."

His eyes explore her own, looking for something that she won't tell him. "To the bone," she replies quietly. His hands grip her shoulders.

Lips upon lips, crashing and melting, a game of tug of war between them as their blood speeds. She's out of breath, out of her mind, but he's only pulling her closer and closer, kissing her with more and more passion until they pull back and away from each other, like magnets are wrenching them in opposite directions. His brow furrows her as he searches her face, from her pink cheeks to her parted lips. Her expression falls into a blank, emotionless one as realises that this was a whim.

"I don't know how you play such dangerous games, Malfoy."

He reacts another minute later. "You're right," he replies, much to her surprise. "You're thirteen. I'm sure we can both do better than this."

Lily looks up at him, hurt trembling beneath the surface of her blank mask as she speaks. "I was referring to the fact that you have a girlfriend, but obviously those moral values mean very little to you."

Scorpius cocks his head to the side, his gaze penetrating every inch of her, seeing things she otherwise refuses to let people see. "What in the name of Merlin are you-" Malfoy drifts off midsentence. "Wait, Parkinson? We broke up ages ago. Just before the summer."

"Summer?" Lily mumbles. "And no one told me?"

"What? Do you think I'd just come to your side, weeping in agony that my heart was now fragile and broken? Please, Potter. It was something that should have been done a long time ago. It was a mutual agreement."

"But I thought- Well, I thought Celeste would at least _mention_ it."

"She's been too busy cuddling up to Graham Pucey. I know she's been going after him for-"

"Malfoy."

"Hm?"

"You're leaving in ten months, while I'll be stuck here. _Ten months_. I'd rather not be discussing who Celeste has currently got an eye for."

Scorpius smirked, pulling her hair back and leaning down to kiss her again.

* * *

Ten months have passed like ten seconds. For a small, blissful period of time, everything starts to work out. But it's slipping through Lily's grasp like water now. She watches Scorpius stride past her to collect his graduation certificate, along with Eamon and Celeste, feeling utter despair.

From his spot with the rest of the year, Scorpius winks at her. She shoots him a small smile back. Albus' head snaps around to look at her as he waits for his own name to be called out. He was getting suspicious, she could tell. They had been as discreet as possible around him, as she didn't want him to approach her at all, but her older brother was cunning.

Scorpius disappears out of the Great Hall with the rest of his seventh-year graduates, not meeting Lily's eye. She stands instinctively (_Scorp, look at me . . . Look at me now, please, look at me, just now . . . Just once . . ._) and murmurs an excuse to Imogen. And then it's just footsteps against stone floor, the rest of the school talking and eating the remaining food of the feast, Lily's chest fluttering, Scorpius vanishing from sight . . .

Lily bounds past him, red hair billowing behind her, sweet scent wavering in the air. She hears Scorpius' footsteps following her and she feels dangerous, sexy. They _are_ dangerous.

He makes her angry and dirty and wrong and _so, so, so_ deprives her of her innocence. She grew up in a big family, with heroic parents and typical brothers and a lovely, big backyard. And now here she is, seducing and tempting and taunting and teasing, all the while breaking herself just because of him.

_It's because of his smile_, Lily thinks as she turns a corner. The way his lips curve around his words, the way his eyes graze over her like she's his, but the lust and desire and _terrible _things in all of the grey suggests that he doesn't have her yet; that he wants her, all too much.

He does. He's never wanted anything more.

Lily halts after turning one more corner, waiting for him to join her. Scorpius almost jogs right past her, but he skids to a halt, an unfathomable half-smirk on his face. His blond hair is all messy and he is out of breath. He's perfect. She always told herself she'd never find the perfect man, would always want a little imperfection to set her life on fire, but right here, right now, she doesn't care. He's perfect and he cares about her and nothing – _nothing_ – has ever made her feel so alive.

Scorpius breathes in quickly before pressing her against the wall. Lips of lazy, sunny-day clouds; girl of fire. Spilt blood and savage beauty and he has never met someone so mismatched in all his life – torn between her Potter heritage and her Slytherin label.

He swallows, emptiness invading his chest all of a sudden. His nose is just touching her collar bone when he realises the three words on his tongue, fighting to be whispered. He breaths, disbelief settling in when he realises he _is_ about to say this –

"You son of a bitch!" Albus Potter cries, storming towards them. "Get off her! _Get off her!_"

"Potter," Scorpius spits, curling his lip. He doesn't move from Lily's side, one hand pressed against the wall beside her.

"_That's my sister!_" Albus yells, reaching into his robes and drawing his wand.

"_STOP!_" Lily screams, tearing away from Scorpius. Anger licks her veins ferociously. "Don't lay a single _spell_ on him, Al, or you bring me into this. And I _won't_ show any mercy in duelling you because you're my brother-"

"I'll kill him," Al tells her, trembling with rage. "This is why you've changed, isn't it? Because Malfoy has come in and ruined _everything _about you!"

Lily's chest heaves as she shouts back, "Just because I'm not like you does not mean I'm ruined! Did you ever think maybe _this_-" Lily waves a tense hand up and down her body, "-is me? Maybe I'm not even a Potter, Al."

Albus growls, "It's him. It's him and his _ignorant_ little friends and all the demeaning, horrible-"

"_ME!_" Lily screams, advancing on him angrily. "YOU MEAN ME! NOT SCORP! You are talking about _me_!"

Albus shakes his head. "You aren't- You're nothing, now, Lily. Everything you've become, treating Mum and Dad like that . . ."

"Fuck you," Lily spits, clenching her fists. "I never did _anything _to them. I love them. You're an ass. Get away from me."

"You heard her," Scorpius says coldly, placing a hand on Lily's shoulder. "Piss off."

"_Stupefy!_" Al shouts, though the anger is rocketing through his body, making him shake, and the spell bounces off a wall. "You aren't my sister any more."

Tears stream down her cheeks and Lily is sobbing, weeping, wailing but she hasn't noticed yet. She loves him, she's always loved him – he's her brother, they're her family. They used to swim in the creek in the woods by the Potter house, and gang up on James when he was being unfair. He's Al. He's Al and he still loathed her for who she was.

Lily sinks into Scorpius' arms, because he feels like all she has at the moment. But somewhere in the distance, McGonagall is shouting, asking them what they think they're doing. She doesn't know. What is she doing?

Lily slaps her fists to her cheeks, wiping the tears away so forcefully that she has to bite back the cry of pain. With a sniff, she rises to her feet and nods at the professor. "We were just heading back, Professor." She says it with all the bitterness she can muster, but her voice trembles and breaks over the syllables.

McGonagall looks between Scorpius and Lily, a mix of concern, suspiciousness and doubt flickering on her features before she coughs and nods. "Well make it quick, then. We have no time for dawdling, Potter."

Scorpius goes one way and she goes the other. The last thing they say to each is a brush of his fingertips against her wrist.

And oh, she is so alone.

* * *

It's week . . . Well, from the letters she's received from Imogen and Celeste, she's going back to school next week. She hasn't been keeping track, it's all gone so fast. But it's nearly the end of the holidays, and Lily has hardly seen Albus at all. The few times he had actually been at home, he ignored her completely; didn't dare look her in the eye. Now her trunk is full of bits and pieces from Diagon Alley, and all the books for her sixth year.

She hasn't written to Scorpius, and he hasn't written to her. They might be in love and whatever, but neither of them are the type of people to write heartfelt letters. And what kind of relationship is that, when she lives at a magical boarding school the majority of the year and he's an adult, free to do whatever he pleases?

Lily lets out a huff and flops onto her bed. She hates everything.

* * *

Lily is seventeen, finally. It's like weights being pulled off her chest, to step off the great, scarlet train. She swallows, waving off Imogen with a smile. They had said curt goodbyes while onboard, anyway, as in a few days, they'd be reunited again.

She sees a wisp, a waver, of platinum blond amongst the dreary hubbub of Platform 9 3/4. Lily pauses, looking between the general direction of where the family should be waiting for her and the glimpse of silver she had seen. Her throat dries immediately, and she does nothing except blink repeatedly to regain control of all her emotions.

"Lily!"

"Lily, honey?"

"How is the Slytherin princess?"

Lily jumps as the voices reach her ears. Everyone except for Albus is with them, which the rest of the family seems to be trying to cover up. They keep chatting quickly, as if to not let her get any questions in. She doesn't care for him any more, though.

Lily looks around thoroughly for another dash of blond, but nothing catches her eye so she lets her family drag her off to their car, reluctantly. James babbles away next to her, talking about his days in Gryffindor, Harry and Ginny smiling and nodding where they find it appropriate. Lily clenches her fists.

"-and then Waverly thought it'd be a really funny idea to track down the Chamber of Secrets- We read about it a text book . . . Dad, you never told me where it was! I told Waverly he better shut his trap because you're an Auror and you know all sorts of dark magic. That shut him up! Merlin, it was good to be thirteen. But yeah, it says you defeated a Basilisk, Dad. Crazy shit, huh, Lils?"

Ginny sighs. "Watch your tongue, James."

"I'm twenty!" he shouts back indignantly.

"You act as though you're eleven," his mother scolds him. James makes a face out the window.

All the while, Harry's eyes flicker up to meet Lily's in the mirror. She smiles a small smile, remembering how when Celeste had first asked her about it, she had written a letter home and demanded her father tell her the story. It had been her favourite tale by far, much to her mother's dislike. Harry didn't seem to mind so much, though.

"Can you tell me the story, Dad? So next time I run into him at Mackleby's I can tell him the story. He'll get all pissy, he always was so uptight."

"How is Mackleby's?" Ginny interrupted quickly, shooting a look at Harry from the passenger's seat. By Mackleby's, she was referring to the broom shop James was now manager of. They were highly demanded as their brooms were handmade in Hogsmeade.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good, Mum. We've just got the new model for the Smokono 9000, but Jerald is designing his own, which is pretty exciting. Complicated design though – he's making it tough work for me, I'll give him that-" James breaks off, scowling at his parents. "No, no, I want to hear the Chamber of Secrets story."

Ginny looks out the window after sighing at Harry, allowing him to tell them the tale. Harry smiles grimly at Lily in the mirror before starting, "Well, it was my second year. I started hearing these weird noises, like someone was hissing in my ears all the time – really odd, it got your Aunt Hermione worked up. So anyway, it turns out it was-"

"Parseltongue," Lily says in a quiet voice. Harry nods and continues on with his story. The words '_stone_' and '_slither' _and '_Voldemort' _and '_chamber_' are oddly comforting to her, almost lulling her to sleep as she rests her head against the cool glass of the car window.

* * *

She receives the invitation in the mail that summer – a formal letter, asking her to attend an engagement party. She of course won't be able to attend – the sender knew it, too – but before her heart can break, she marvels over the simple, classy cream parchment, rolled up and tied with a simple black bow. The writing is familiar and pointed, and almost comforting to know that he still exists in the world.

But then her heart _does_ break, and there's no Celeste to tell her to pull herself together, no Eamon to offer her something sweet for lack of sensitivity, no Imogen to hug her, no Goyle to ask her about the letter stupidly, no Albus to tell her he was right all along, and no Scorpius . . . There's no Scorpius to hold her, whisper to her, want her.

_Lily Potter_

_Is cordially invited to the engagement party of_

_Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy_

_Indigo Anne Bear,_

_next Saturday at 2.00 pm sharp._

_The new Malfoy Manner, by the lake. Contact us should you get lost._

_We do hope you can join us in celebrating our journey to marriage._

"_Our journey to marriage_?" Lily hisses, grabbing the attention of her owl, River. "Scorpius would never write that. This Indigo must be a real sap . . ."

River is staring at the small, sparrow-shaped shadows that fall from the opened scroll, however, fluttering in slow motion to the ground like paper snowflakes. They seemed to be never ending, yet never touched the ground, they're wings flittering gracefully. Lily ran two fingers through the gentle waterfall of sparrows, though she felt nothing but air and no mark was left on her skin. "It's beautiful," she whispers to her bird sadly.

River leers at her coldly before turning back to her treat, ignoring Lily as she stuffs the parchment into her pocket. It's pathetic, but she knows that tonight, way past midnight, she'll want to fawn over his handwriting as though it's him.

She hates this, she hates him, she hates everything.

Just less than two years apart but still, she's actually in love with him.

_Fuck you_.

That's Lily's response to the engagement party invitation. She deliberates whether it's the right thing to do for along time, watching his sparrow shadows fall from their paper like raindrops. But she can picture him in her mind, laughing at her quietly, murmuring in her ear, '_What are you, a Gryffindor?_'

And so she ties her response to River's foot and tries to predict his reply before she receives it. River nips her on the finger, still ignoring her because Lily didn't repay her for the last letter she sent. River was fussy and selfish, but still a lovely, long-winged barn owl.

Would he laugh at her response? Would he break because of it? Would he reminisce about them, before throwing it out carelessly? Would Indigo see it? Would it mean anything – anything at all? That's all she wanted, really. She wanted it to mean something.

* * *

Seven days later, River soars into the kitchen, a piece of parchment tied to his foot with a ribbon the loveliest shade of green Lily has ever seen. She wants to read it. She wants to tear it from River, crawl under the table and disappear. But she doesn't. For now, she can only pocket the little letter and wait while Imogen talks to her, happily casting spells airily now that she's free of the Trace.

Wait, and wait, and _wait_.

The day seems to pass in agony, like some heavenly force is slowly tearing ever second away, slower and slower each time just to taunt her. The note burned her thigh where it was nestled securely. She wondered whether it would burn right through the material, and she would drop it somewhere. _Merlin _forbids she loses it. So Lily keeps checking her pockets ever two minutes, running her thumb against the straight edge of the paper. A great sigh of relief escaped her lips each time she touches the parchment. Imogen had been giving her curious looks all day due to this.

"What _are_ you doing, Lily?" Imogen finally asks, her brow knot in confusion as she studies Lily's hand, buried deep inside her pocket. "You keep rummaging around in your pocket, and then sighing. It's like there's all the Galleons in the world in there . . . Or the key to every door in the world, or something equally as important-"

"Contrary to your beliefs, Imogen," Lily says coolly, running a hand through her auburn hair, "there are some things more important than money and secret utensils that would work to our selfish advantages."

"I never-"

Lily smirks, hoping that by now, Imogen would know not to take her so seriously. "Oh, Imogen, you're foolish, sometimes. But it's getting late, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave. There's some business I need to attend to."

Imogen shrugs, pulling Lily into an embrace and saying a happy goodbye before scurrying out of the Potter's front door. Ginny and Harry are out, while James has his own place in Hogsmeade, now. Lily tears the note from her pocket, inhaling as she studies it. Plain, cream-coloured parchment, not a very long note at all.

_I could turn those two words into something horrendously dirty, but I won't. My fiancée is standing less than three metres away from me, arguing with her cousin about roses or lace or something. I don't love her. _

_Enjoy your holidays, Lily.  
Scorp. _

Tears burn her eyes as anger fills her chest. What's _with_ him? _I don't love her_ . . . What does that mean? Does that mean he loves Lily? Why would he tell that, and then still intend on marrying on her? Lily crumples the paper up and stomps on it furiously, her wild hair falling and rising as she got more and more aggressive. When it was finally shreds under her feet, she let out a devastated wail and undid the nasty work, holding the mint-condition letter in her shaking fingers.

She is anything but stable, these days.

* * *

Lily gathers the flowing skirt of her dress around her. She is neither a guest nor an intruder; she just sort of hangs there, observing but not celebrating, invited but not participating. The dress was a stunning forest green, one that matched her vibrant eyes in a lovely way, with silver beading lining the bust. It was strapless and long and elegant, much like her hair, pinned up in loose curls.

The new Malfoy Manner – an address she had pressed Celeste for – was modern and beautiful. It was big, but somehow not overdone. There was marble and gold everywhere. The place seemed so alive. She wondered whether this was Indigo Bear's doing.

The groomsmen are assembling at the white altar, and somewhere further off, Lily can hear giggles and shrieks of the bridal party. Gentle footsteps approach her, and the sun shines upon blond hair in the corner of Lily's eye.

"I'm a fool," she whispers, though she's not ashamed or upset. It's just a statement, really.

"Yes," Scorpius agrees, his voice as much of a velvet drawl as it had been two years ago. "But you do look lovely."

"You are a fool, too."

"Yes," he agrees again. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm wondering how different it would be if this were my wedding. If it was you and I," Lily admits stiffly, her body rigid.

"Green and silver," Scorpius finally said, taking another step toward her. "Everything would be forest green and sparkling silver, just like your dress, just like you and me. Just like Slytherin."

"Don't give me any of that sap about still having memories."

"I wasn't going to. Memories are harsh and cruel, Lily, because they offer you precious warmth and happiness for seconds before you remember you don't have that any more; that you made a mistake and you can't have it back."

Lily spins around suddenly. "But you _could_ have it back, Scorpius!" she almost shouts. "You could have me, now. You could go over there and tell her you don't love her, and you could marry me instead. We could turn everything silver and green, and you could snatch the ring from her fingers and send her and her senseless friends home. And you could be horribly, unmistakeably, beautifully, wonderfully, achingly, terrifyingly, tremendously _happy_."

Scorpius waits for her to end her rant before pointing to a man sitting in the front row. "Do you see that man?" Lily nods. "That man is my father. I have no doubt in my mind he was once in love with someone like I am with you, but he married my mother. He married my mother because she was right for him."

Lily is still mulling over his indirect expression of love for her when her snaps up. "And I'm not right for you?"

Scorpius leans forward, kisses her forehead and smiles cynically. "Lily, you and I are anything but alike. You don't notice it because you love me."

"And shouldn't love be enough?"

"No," Scorpius murmurs, shaking his head. "Love isn't enough for anyone. I'd hurt you, I'm sure of it. Or you'd hurt me. Or others would hurt us. It took us five years to finally get somewhere, Lily. We haven't spoken in another two. It will take us years and years to get it right."

"I can do that."

"No you can't. You're young and restless."

"You're only nineteen!"

"But I accepted things long before you did, or ever will. Enjoy the ceremony," he says casually, as though she is nothing more than an acquaintance. Lily decides, as she watches in despair, that he can be old and accepting as much as he wants, he still plays terrible games with her no matter their age.

She watches him marry Indigo on that summer afternoon, no tears spilling down her face. She feels nothing as she watches Indigo and the wedding party; she can't bear to even glance at Scorpius. She stays for a while, melting into the party as people congratulate the happy couple and dance. When they cut the cake, Lily marches over and takes the first bit from Scorpius' hands, much to everyone's surprise.

"Do I know you?" Indigo asks quietly, looking up at Scorpius inquisitively. "Do we know her?"

"Your husband and I used to play games with each other when we were at Hogwarts," Lily replies coolly, dipping her finger in the icing of her slice of cake and bringing it to her lips. "Lovely ceremony, it really was."

And then she is gone, and he is married, and this is a mistake branded by two rings and white icing.

* * *

_Prepares your brittle Nature_

_For the Ethereal Blow_

_By fainter Hammers - further heard -_

_Then nearer - Then so slow  
_

_Your Breath has time to straighten -_

_Your Brain - to bubble Cool -_

_Deals - One - imperial - Thunderbolt -_

_That scalps your naked Soul -_

_When Winds take Forests in the Paws -_

_The Universe - is still –_

- Emily Dickinson


End file.
